My last short story got enough positive feedback that I’m trying my hand at another one. The TV show, Buffy, has an episode in which a character is split apart into two people. One has his weakest traits and the other his strongest ones. They each think the other is an imposter. The weaker one whined, “He’s living my life better than I am.” Their first impulse is to kill each other but they learn that if one dies, the other one does too. They resolve the issue by doing magic to bring the two selves together again. I thought of a much more wicked outcome as I let my imagination run wild and pictured a scenario in which I, as the stronger “self” decided to enslave and imprison my weaker “self” but keep her alive so I could just enjoy the power.
I always want to be the most optimal, the most perfect me possible. You know the guy in Limitless? Like that but in all areas of my life, not just intellectual. What if I could split myself in half with one half having all the weak, imperfect, undesirable traits and the other all the perfection I can muster.
Last week, I came across a recipe for a magick spell that would do exactly that. I think I’ll try it. What have I got to lose. Of course, I’ll have to prepare. I’ll have to find a way to keep the weak self alive but under my control. I am already identifying with the strong half. I will have to build a cage to keep her in. I’ll make it pretty comfortable. I will include a bed and a TV. I’ll let her have drugs, the kind that keep her calm and tranquil: Benzo-diazapams and opiates. That should do the trick.
I cleared the basement and built a cage, one large enough to hold the lessor or mini-me. I like that term. “Mini-me.” It has alliteration. Of course, it’s also the name of some toy for babies but so what. Zero night is here. I descend to the basement and draw a circle which I duly consecrate, calling the corners and invoking deities. I pour the magick sand I have purchased with great difficulty in a little mountain. Then I drizzled the potion over it while chanting. Never mind what was the chant. That’s my secret. Then I took the wet sand and drew a line down from my crown chakra to my second and first chakras and up over my back until the line met itself at the top of my head. I lit a candle and dropped an explosive onto the flame. A big bang.
I am on the floor, gradually taking inventory of my hands and feet. I am moving, discovering I can get up. I look across the room. There is a weak, pathetic girl my age and gender but very nondescript and lacking in energy. I tower over her. I’ve done it. I’ve accomplished the task of isolating the most excellent qualities and making them the whole of me. I lift Mini-Me who looks questioningly and fearfully at me. I carry her to the cage and lay her on her bed. I see she has all the necessities and I lock the cage and leave the basement.
Now I am Super-Me. The world is mine. Mini-me hardly exists but she keeps me alive.